


incision

by LovelyLessie



Series: Steeply, Swiftly [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Gen, Introspection, POV Second Person, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2384672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLessie/pseuds/LovelyLessie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>and an angel falls. [warnings: amputation, discussion of surgery]</p>
            </blockquote>





	incision

**Author's Note:**

> will i ever write something happy about warren? probably not

**amputate:** _v._ to remove by, or as if by, cutting; especially to cut (as a limb) from the body.

* * *

it’s the fever that does it. it doesn’t matter what wishes you’ve already expressed; the fever sets in not long after the infection and it’s over.

you spend most of the week in a daze, barely half awake, vaguely aware that people keep arguing outside your door. your few lucid moments are marred by the pain. feels like burning. you have nightmares about fire when you sleep, and hallucinations when you’re awake. you think you’re dying.

delirium renders you unable to advocate for yourself, but your father knows damn well what you wanted. he knows damn fucking well.

* * *

when possible, in amputations, as much of the limb as can be saved is left, as an attachment point for a prosthetic.

* * *

they tell you what they’re going to do before they put you out.

cut down your spine and pull back the skin and cut through the muscle and tendon to -

break your bones -

rip free your limbs and sew over the joints -

* * *

"i’m sorry" he keeps saying. "i’m sorry, they won’t let me do it. i’m sorry."

you’re slipping in and out of consciousness and he’s beside you clinging to your hand, washing the hot sweat from your forehead, stroking back your damp hair. he’s barely moved all week. 

"i’m sorry" he keeps saying and he keeps trying to explain why but you don’t understand. something about your father, something he’s doing. he wanted to stop your father from telling somebody something. "i’m sorry" he says. you figure he didn’t manage to stop it.

"it’s okay" you tell him. "it’s okay."

* * *

he knows damn fucking well, but he doesn't care.

* * *

they split you open twice - a long line down your spine and one across your shoulderblades.

they cut away all the bone, and muscle, and tendon, and ligament, and skin, til there’s nothing left but two slashes to stitch closed and skin scraped raw where they pulled out down feathers.

when you wake you look in the mirror at the crossed lines drawn in red on your back.

you wouldn’t think losing your limbs would feel so heavy, but it feels so fucking heavy.

* * *

nothing left.

half of you gone, like that.

not like the amputation of a limb. like the removal of a tumor. absolute.


End file.
